


Wrong Body, Wrong Time

by morbid_beauty



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Body Dysphoria, DMAB, Kink, Lingerie, Other, Summer of Like, Trans Female Character, Transgender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 17:36:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4146738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morbid_beauty/pseuds/morbid_beauty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete fell in love not just at the wrong time but in the wrong body.</p><p>(Or: mega short fic about the Summer of Like based on <a href="http://bandomtransheadcanons.tumblr.com/post/117189458271/pete-who-always-thought-he-was-a-dude-who-kinda">this</a>.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrong Body, Wrong Time

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not a trans woman or dmab so please forgive any inaccuracies. I am nb and I did draw from my experience to write this but I am 100% open to critique.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

The summer of 2005 is hot. Partly because it’s summer and partly because it’s Warped Tour, but mostly because it’s Mikey. They’d met a few times before and always clicked but now that they’re on a whole tour together, they are inseparable. It’s daunting for everyone involved. The hickeys on necks, the messages on arms, the overprotective narrowed eyes of bandmates. Where’s Pete? With Mikey, duh.

“Can I share a kink with you?”

Pete whispers but he can hear Joe’s exasperated sigh from the next bunk over. Mikey, who’d been very focused on getting Pete back for the last hickey he left, looks up with the biggest smile on his face. It’s a little cramped in Pete’s bunk but the air conditioning is in full blast and it’s been a long, exhausting day. Making out in a bunk is all they’ve got right now. It’s more than enough.

“Hell yeah,” Mikey says, wiggling a bit.

Pete bites his lip and gets a hand between them. Mikey’s eyebrows reach for his hairline as his gaze follows Pete’s hand. The tight jeans get unbuttoned, opened, pushed down just so. The lace is pulled up with a crooked thumb attached to a shaky hand. Pete trusts Mikey with something this huge at this point and it’s not like Pete wears it outside so no one else outside of his circle could know. Mikey is so far in Pete’s circle they almost make a single dot together.

The gasp that leaves Mikey’s mouth would’ve been frightening if it weren’t for the smile that accompanies it and the way his eyes shine. Pete watches carefully, ready to flee at any moment. Mikey’s finger travels down. His eyes bear into Pete’s, asking for permission, asking to be let in, asking to touch and feel and telling Pete he can be trusted. Mikey says so much with his eyes, or maybe Pete reads into it. He nods a little. Mikey’s finger grazes the red lace. Pete jerks his hips forward as the silky material gets caught in the line of fire.

“Pretty lace…” Mikey says, smiling up at Pete.

“Almost as pretty as me,” Pete says.

“Pretty girl.” Mikey’s whisper is husky in only the way he knows to make a voice. The sound crawls down Pete’s spine, the words curl in Pete’s stomach; he was horny before but something about those words sink into his bones, around the smaller veins in his body.

“Say that again.” Pete blushes at his own words but he’d never wanted to hear something twice so bad.

“Pretty girl…” Mikey spreads his hand over Pete’s hip, rubbing the material against his palm. “Such a sexy woman.”

Pete moans softly. He—no. She leans in for a kiss and Mikey teases her with a brush of the lips. His hand snakes around and squeezes her ass then pulls her close. She feels him; she feels herself, but tries not to think about it.

“Please…Mikey…” Pete kisses his chin.

Mikey rolls them over so he’s on top. His stare is intense and he’s still smiling but softer now. Can he feel what Pete’s feeling? How good she feels? Can he see it?

“Yeah, baby? What does my girl want me to do to her?”

He kisses her. She doesn’t let him move away. They move their hips against each other, parting only to get their shirts off and push their jeans further past their hips. It’s messy and rushed and shouldn’t be so satisfying but it is. Pete tries to remember that she’s Mikey’s girl, regardless of what is inside those panties, and Mikey keeps complimenting her, and maybe Pete just hasn’t had sex in a while but when she comes it’s probably the best she’s had in a long time.

“There go my favorite panties,” Pete murmurs.

Mikey rolls onto his side, looking just as sated with his sleepy smile. “I’ll buy you another pair,” he says, sounding stupidly happy.

Pete kisses him and they laugh softly against each other’s lips. Later when she takes off the panties, the rush goes away.

*

Pete doesn’t like dicks. He kind of hates them, really. He always uses stalls in bathrooms, he looks down as little as possible, he tries not to think about having one. He doesn’t watch porn. He doesn’t use the shower in the gym. He doesn’t even like the euphemisms unless they are used as insults which, luckily, they usually are. He’s tried telling Patrick about it and Patrick does his best to understand, as Pete’s best friend, but it isn’t something he can wrap his head around. The only other person Pete dares tell is Mikey. But in a very specific context: their first real time together.

“You don’t want me to touch it?” Mikey repeats back slowly.

Or, what would’ve been.

Pete nods, a little hasty because of the topic and context. The summer of 2005 is hot and they’re gliding around naked between some dumpsters backstage, shirts already abandoned on the floor. Pants are next and Pete loves touching Mikey, getting Mikey closer, getting rid of the layers, but when Mikey touches him, it’s something different. He’s too sober for this. It’s hard to explain.

“I can touch yours, though,” Pete insists, not wanting Mikey to hate him or something.

“We don’t have to have sex,” Mikey says gently. He starts buttoning up his jeans.

“No, no, I want to…”

Mikey furrows his brow. “I think this is a conversation we need to have when there’s air conditioning.”

So no behind-dumpster sex. It’s probably for the best. The next night they’re at a hotel, they go to the roof of Mikey’s; fresh night air is better than air conditioning any day and it wasn’t a conversation they could have anywhere that a single soul could overhear. They lay down ground rules and get to talking. Pete says it, plainly, wincing at the thought of Mikey’s reaction: I don’t like dicks. Not my own. Not anyone else’s, really. No, I wasn’t. Not that I remember. I just…never really have.

“Are you a virgin?”

“No. Just recently, it’s been bothering me more. I don’t know.”

“Is it a sexual thing? Are you straight?”

“Gay above the waist, remember?”

“Right. Are you asexual?”

“What is that?”

“You don’t feel sexual attraction.”

“Well, I’m sexually attracted to you.”

“There’s a spectrum. You might be on it, if you don’t wanna do anything involving our dicks.”

“Again, yours is okay.”

Mikey just looks confused. Pete feels confused. Mikey bites his lip and thinks for a long, long time. It’s the most nervous Pete has ever been. He stares at Mikey and Mikey stares at the tar beneath their feet and finally he asks, his voice softer than ever: “Are you transgender?”

“What? No!” Pete takes a few steps away from him, alarmed and baffled by the unexpected question.

“Okay, okay, forget it.” Mikey raises his hands defensively. “We’ll move on from that.”

But as much as it makes his heart contort in the most awkward ways, Pete doesn’t want to move on from that. He doesn’t even know why he’d reacted so sharply. It isn’t a bad thing. It’s not something he understands, but it isn’t bad. And it isn’t him. No way. There’s…no way.

“Pete?” Mikey approaches him.

Pete can see him in his peripheral but he’s staring at the tar and he’s feeling his body. He’s thinking about February and he’s thinking about before. He’s thinking about Mikey close, about wanting him, and the only thing really standing in his way has been not wanting himself. He’s thinking about how when he learned to tuck, the world seemed a little better. He keeps buying panties. He liked being called a girl so much.

But that’s just a kink. “It’s just a kink,” he says, mostly to Mikey but also to himself.

“Okay.” Pete looks up. Mikey doesn’t seem to be planning on talking anymore. He’s looking at Pete and waiting.

“But if it’s just a kink, why would it bother me outside of sex?” Pete sounds almost like he’s repeating something Mikey has asked or asking him if that was the right line of questioning. Mikey nods, worrying his lip. Maybe Pete read his mind. Maybe on top of being transgender, Pete’s a telepath. Maybe he feels dizzy. “Holy shit…”

Mikey holds Pete when he starts to fall. He helps him lean against the barricade. Pete feels strange, like a million balls of tension have exploded around and within his body and it should feel good but it hurts at the same time. He doesn’t even realize he’s crying until Mikey kneels in front of him and pulls him down as well. They hug and Pete cries against Mikey’s chest as Mikey rocks him. He shushes Pete gently, rubs his back, whispers encouragements. They could’ve been like this for minutes or hours. At some point he stops, all cried out. Mikey pulls away to wipe Pete’s cheeks with his thumbs, then kisses them in turn.

“Ready to talk?” Mikey asks. He holds Pete’s hands.

“Can you…say that I’m a girl?” Pete whispers.

“You’re a girl.”

Pete squeezes his hands. “My full name.”

“Pete Wentz is a girl.” Then, after a pause, and with a cheeky smile, “Peter Kingston Wentz the Third is, in fact, a girl.”

“Fuck… That has a nice rhythm to it.”

“Almost like it was meant to be.”

Pete laughs. He laughs and he pulls Mikey into another hug. He laughs, and maybe he cries a little more, but then he laughs, and once the explosions from the release of tension have waned, Pete just feels lighter. Mikey hugs him and chuckles softly. Mikey can feel him, Pete knew it; there are tears on Pete’s cheek again but they aren’t his.

“I think you saved my life,” Pete says. He’s exhausted now.

“Don’t give me that much credit, whoa.” Mikey rubs his back.

“I need to fucking sleep on this.”

They head downstairs. Pete’s too unstable to cross the street to his hotel so he shares Mikey’s bed. Mikey falls asleep after a moment but Pete stares at the ceiling. It looks different than he would expect. The mattress feels different. Mikey sounds, and smells when Pete turns his body toward him, and feels when Pete strokes his hair out of his face, and looks when Pete closes his eyes and thinks of him before, different. All different. Everything is different.

*

“They’re gonna call us a girl band,” Joe says, like it’s the greatest thing in the world.

Mikey sits in Pete’s lap the whole time she tells them, for moral support and because there are only a few days left of Warped Tour. They can’t stand being away from each other too long. It takes a few weeks of Pete ruminating and ranting to Mikey, having mini-breakdowns and badly dysphoric days, before coming to terms with it and building up the courage to tell her bandmates. They seem to take it well. Joe jokes, Andy stays quiet and holds Pete’s hand, and Patrick asks a lot of questions. It’s better than being shunned. They agree to use female pronouns right away, but only when no one else is within earshot that Pete hasn’t yet told.

There’s a moment of thoughtful quiet. Nothing else really needs to be said. Pete still has a lot to figure out. She tells them this and they agree to drop the subject for now. It’s just another day on the Warped Tour. They go about their days and Pete, all tired again, rolls into her bunk with Mikey.

“See? That was painless,” Mikey says. Pete just kisses the smirk right off his lips.

The summer’s almost over and it’s starting to cool down. They don’t have sex beyond what they did on the bus that one time. Unfortunately. Mikey insists he doesn’t mind but Pete still feels bad about it. They go through a couple more pairs of underwear, but Pete is so worn out about it all. They strip down to their underwear and cling to each other even tighter these days, knowing it’s almost over.

“This fucking summer changed my life,” Pete says. She kisses Mikey’s knuckles and Mikey makes a please sound.

“Are you happy?” Mikey asks. “That’s what really matters.”

“I’m getting there. Fast.”

Mikey smiles brightly. “I love you, pretty girl,” he whispers.

Pete grins right back. “I love you, handsome boy.”

They kiss, long and lingering. Pete’s world is a little lighter.


End file.
